Time. What I live by, literally. Tick, tick. The ticking of the clock, the rising of the sun, even the upbeat singsongy "Good morning, good morning, ba ba ba ba" alarm that rings every dark morning at 7:05 a.m. drives my actions, my words, my thoughts. If I had all the time in the world, I would like to imagine that I woke up in the mornings thinking about the Greek myth of Sisyphus rather than how much time I have to eat breakfast before I have to scramble down the hill to the bus stop, which, it seems, has a habit of leaving me behind.
I never seem to have enough time, and I often find myself regretting things I have done. Like why I spent my entire summer tirelessly caring for a naughty bunch of fourth-grade campers, giving forth every ounce of energy I had to teach them Korean, belaying them while they rock-climbed, and making sure they got a plate of lunch...and another plate...and another. Or why I decided to take a class, AP Calc BC, that I was sure to hate (and surely did). Or why I am spending so much of my time (which could be spent mulling over college applications) attempting to make my first blog post sound somewhat presentable. And I often have to remind myself that I use my time for good reasons--that everything that I do has a purpose, has an effect on something else.
While jogging in the park today, thinking my usual thoughts (what to eat for dinner), I ran headfirst into a huge spiderweb. After squealing and swatting madly at myself, I was reminded of the spiderweb in All the King's Men. And finally realized how true Robert Penn Warren--or Jack, whomever you prefer--meant. By running into the spider's carefully crafted web, I had destroyed a part of its livelihood. In an instant. Bam. What it had worked on for hours had been destroyed in the blink of an eye. And in that instant, I had been covered in the silky, sticky web.
My first interpretation of the spiderweb metaphor was simple: that creating something--anything, from a political name to a spiderweb--took time, effort, and craftiness. That the maker had to be committed and tireless. Just like the spider. But after having pondered over time for a while, I think I may have a new interpretation.
But first, I have some questions. Mr. Warren, why did you create Jack Burden as a historian? What were you trying to say about time...the passage of it, the changes over time?
In my opinion, Jack's occupation of "historian," philosophical and fact-based at the same time, has deeper meaning. I think that Jack, the narrator of the novel, has to be able to both relay the facts as they played out as well as give his own overtly superficial, actually profound insight. Although he often comes off as a normal guy with no dreams, no ambitions, and no hopes for the world, he actually helped me understand the author's purpose better than Willie Stark, the confusing protagonist/antagonist of the novel. In retrospect, of all of Jack's often cynical insight throughout the novel, I thought that his mentions of time were most important. Because, if you think about it, time changed almost everything. It changed Jack, his relationships, and the society in which the story takes place. Time also changed the Boss. Although other factors most certainly affected these changes, I am convinced that Warren was trying to convey to the reader the effects of time. Although I can't really put my thoughts around exactly what he was trying to convey, my abstract idea, currently, is this: that time is precious, and the passage of time doing a certain thing does not necessarily lead to success.
So now I go back (finally, I know) to the metaphor of the spiderweb. Though the spider spent so much time and (probably well-meaning) effort into making the web, it was destroyed within seconds. Willie is the spider. Though he spent countless hours, days, and years to get to his position of power, he couldn't necessarily enjoy it to its fullest. Although he trapped a few bugs, he wasn't able to display his beautiful web to the world when dawn broke and the sun shone on his masterpiece. Time, which helped him create his web--in other words, his political career--also destroyed it. In a second.
